TLDT c05s01
Text Scrivener Blooms sat at a large table in a slate-colored room, breathing quietly in and out, still a little shaken from his visions the night before. Early in the morning, a groundskeeper had found him... but thankfully, anger had turned to sympathy when Scrivener, after awakening in a panic, had hurriedly confessed that this was his wife's tomb... and that he guessed that he'd fallen asleep here and... had a nightmare. So he'd rushed back to the hotel, where Twilight had been up all night, worried for him. She had gotten part of the story out of him, but what Scrivener needed more than anything at that time had been to quickly shower himself off and get ready for his interview in the afternoon, so the unicorn had extracted a promise from him to tell her about what had happened later and then thankfully left it alone. The stallion had arrived early at the mental institute to go through check-in procedures, and they had taken him in around one-twenty to the conference room. On the other side of the table, four pony doctors were all assessing him with their clipboards in front of them, occasionally making notes on what he said or how he behaved and generally doing everything in their power to make him uncomfortable. He'd been through this more than once before, so he knew the procedure, and the charcoal stallion was careful to keep himself as calm as possible. He was well aware of some of the nervous tics they'd be looking for and was doing his best to control himself by keeping his front hooves on the table and reminding himself to make eye contact when answering their questions. It was a fine balance to run, though: if he was too calm and cordial, they'd suspect he was faking or hiding something, and would draw on the probing as much as possible. And if he was too aggressive or gave away too many signs of anxiety, they'd start pushing him harder. The trick was in irritating them just the right amount. Scrivener looked meditatively across at the doctors, as one of them finally gazed up and asked calmly: "Are you taking your medication?" "I suppose you have my blood work right there in front of you, don't you?" Scrivener asked dryly, and when the psychologist only looked at him as the others made notes and one mumbled disapprovingly, the charcoal stallion sighed and nodded. "I'm taking everything except the anti-psychotic. It doesn't help. It just turns me into a drooling moron." "You need to take all prescribed medication as you've been ordered to, Scrivener Blooms. It's for your own benefit. Or do you believe the doctors have an agenda, or are trying to hurt you in some way?" asked another psychologist, and Scrivener smiled wryly. "Well, we all have our own agendas, don't we?" the charcoal stallion asked mildly, and then he shook his head and said quietly: "I don't think any doctors are conspiring against me, no. I do believe that if you had to actually sample some of your own medications instead of just the fun ones, you'd be way more careful about prescribing them. Like I said, I don't like the anti-psychotic because I literally will end up spending most of my day just sitting on the floor, drooling and staring at things, without the fun of being high. The anti-anxiety and antidepressants keep me in check." The doctors made more notes, were quiet for a little while, and then another asked calmly: "Have you suffered any seizures or catatonia within the last two weeks?" "I haven't no. The worst I've had is insomnia but... that's nothing new." Scrivener shook his head, and then one of the doctors looked up mildly. "That's a lie, Scrivener Blooms, as I'm sure you're well aware of yourself. You suffered a very serious break with reality in Ponyville only recently, is that not correct?" asked the psychologist who had looked up, as the others continued to make notes. Scrivener looked moodily at the doctor, then he gazed slowly over the panel that was judging him. For all their differences, they all seemed the same, too... like one faceless entity, a hydra that was trying to devour his sanity instead of his body. "Well, yes. But I wasn't seizing, catatonic, or even suffering from insomnia while that happened. I slept quite well that night, thank you very much." All four doctors looked up sourly at this, and Scrivener cleared his throat and glanced awkwardly away for a moment before there was silence again, except for the scratching of pens against paper. Scrivener shifted a bit, then reminded himself to stay calm as he breathed slowly and straightened a bit, waiting for what he knew was coming next. "Describe your emotions during the event. Were you sad? Happy? Mad?" one of the other doctors asked, and Scrivener couldn't completely hide his scowl. It always bothered him, how patronizing they could be, claiming it was for simplicity's sake... but Scrivener was well aware that too many of them thought 'unwell' meant 'stupid.' "I was..." Scrivener closed his eyes, mentally searching for a word before he said seriously: "Lugubrious." "Please don't make up words." said one of the doctors irritably, before another leaned over and whispered hurriedly in his ear, and he looked surprised before blushing a bit and adding hurriedly: "By which I mean, it would be much better if you stuck to simple definitions. We can better understand each other that way, don't you agree?" "Did you know that the word eros has no translation into our language? Yes, it's clearly got something to do with erotic but that doesn't begin to scratch the surface of what it really means." Scrivener said dryly, and when the doctors all looked at him darkly, Scrivener continued mildly: "If I tell you that I was sad and I was mad, that does not even scratch the surface of what I felt. Well, sad does, yes: the word is so simple that only it can describe the absolute depth of what I was feeling. I was... I was sad. But mad? I wasn't mad, in any sense of the word... I was furious. But more than that, I was in pain, and I was lashing out, fighting back against this thing that was causing that pain. To make it stop hurting me." "You're justifying your act? You're saying that what you did was righteous?" asked another doctor, and Scrivener smiled faintly and shook his head slowly. "No, I'm not, not at all. I said I did it to stop it from hurting me. I didn't say I did the right thing, or that I..." Scrivener quieted, glancing down at the table. "That I didn't lose control for a moment. But I was thrown into a situation where... dying... would... have been a pleasant outcome. Because otherwise, it would have... used me... for... to..." Scrivener shivered a bit, and the doctors looked back and forth before they went back to making notes. Scrivener kept his eyes down, not wanting them to see his pain... it might be better for him if they did, but he didn't want to share that with these doctors. He didn't want to use that as a shield... as much as he wanted to get out of here, some things were best left... unturned. Then, after a moment, a doctor asked quietly: "Do you understand that you took a life? Yes, Changelings are a threat to Equestria and we do not value them like we do the lives of ponies, but they are still sentient beings and most ponies prefer them subdued or driven off instead of killed." The charcoal stallion nodded a bit, looking down as he murmured quietly: "I do. And if I could do it all over again, I... I wouldn't do the same thing, obviously. I'm not stupid or prideful enough to think that what I did was right or just... I... I only know that... I did defend myself. I killed a monster, not a pony... and I'm not saying it was a monster because of what it looked like or because it was a Changeling, I'm saying it was a monster because it tried... it tried to use my memories of Luna." The doctors traded looks again, and there was silence before one of the doctors asked calmly: "Did the violence excite you? Did you feel powerful?" "No." Scrivener shook his head a bit, looking down as he said quietly: "I know I... that it's in my file that I have sadomasochistic tendencies. That I... enjoy... pain. But honestly, I... I didn't enjoy this. I was out of my mind with anger and misery and... there was no pleasure in the act. I was only thinking of... of Luna." Pen scratches, rumbles, a few murmurs... and then a doctor asked calmly: "Have you been suffering hallucinations? Delusions?" "It's... kind of hard for me to tell you if I've been suffering from delusions. You know, apart from what you all tell me are delusions." Scrivener said after a moment, and one of the doctors looked at him tiredly as the others only went back to writing, before Scrivener hesitantly shook his head as he lied: "No. Just... just nightmares." "Tell us about the nightmares." one of the doctors said, and Scrivener hesitated again and shifted, moodily looking down and wondering how much of the truth to tell before the psychologist prompted: "Scrivener, you have to tell us. Otherwise we can't approve of you leaving this facility... a powerful enough nightmare could trigger another violent episode, which would make it too hazardous for you to be out in society right now." "No, no." Scrivener said a little too fast, wincing and looking up, and then he sighed a bit and nodded slowly, mumbling: "I... okay. They're... they're not... violent nightmares, though. They're... about... Luna. About my... delusions, as you call them, and... I see..." He reached up, grasping at his forehead and murmuring quietly: "I feel powerless, and I don't know what to do. I see Luna... I see two Lunas, who are both so different and so much the same, and... I don't know what's real or what's not. They make me want to just curl up and cry... they suck the life right out of me." One of the doctors nodded, and there was silence for a few minutes as they wrote and checked notes. Scrivener was glad for the short reprieve, as he gathered himself again... then he looked up with a grimace as one of the doctors asked: "You currently have a caretaker helping keep an eye on you, correct? Her name is Twilight Sparkle... what is your relationship with her?" "Friends. She's... my friend. My best friend, I guess, with Luna gone..." Scrivener shook his head a bit, looking down. "She's been extremely understanding and she's one of very few ponies who don't set off my anxieties or my paranoia. I'm lucky to have her looking out for me. I just wish... she didn't have to, you know? That I wasn't... that she didn't have to always keep an eye on me." The doctors showed little reaction to this, before one asked calmly: "Are you in a sexual relationship with her?" "No, I am not." Scrivener said dryly, and the doctors all looked at him pointedly before the charcoal stallion pointed at his own face, saying moodily: "Have you looked at me lately? And Twilight Sparkle is kind of a big deal. She can... do a lot better than creepy me, who she has to babysit all day." This seemed to convince most of the doctors, although one was still scrutinizing the charcoal stallion, and he shifted a bit before the psychologist that was still looking at him asked slowly: "Do you ever have sexual thoughts about her?" "I... well, I am now." Scrivener grimaced and rubbed at his face with a hoof, then he muttered: "Thanks for that, really." "Please just answer the question. Do you ever have sexual fantasies involving Twilight Sparkle?" the doctor reiterated, and Scrivener wondered morosely why they had to be so fascinated with this, of all subjects. "She's attractive, strong, composed, and a librarian. How could I not... think... you know?" Scrivener said finally, and the doctors all made further notes. For a few moments, there was silence, and then one of the doctors looked up, questioning: "How would you describe your stay in Ponyville so far?" "Good." Scrivener said softly, and he smiled a bit, nodding slowly after a moment. "It's been good. I was able to do work at Sweet Apple Acres, and I'm... a lot more relaxed than I ever was in the institution. I was getting to know other ponies and... building relationships. I felt more at peace there than... I have in a long time." More note-taking, and Scrivener hesitated before he asked finally: "Are we going to be much longer?" "We still have more questions." said one of the psychologists, and Scrivener sighed a little as he slumped back in his uncomfortable seat, nodding moodily. The doctors questioned him about every detail of his life in Ponyville, and on his mental state, his delusions, his past, present and future. They seemed determined to rout out something, or perhaps just to stress him into having a fit, but Scrivener refused to give them the pleasure or satisfaction, keeping himself as civil as he could while sliding in the occasional biting remark here and there. After another grueling forty minutes, they finally sent him outside to wait so they could confer, and the charcoal stallion grumbled a bit as he paced in the hall of the mental institute, looking gloomily back and forth as patients and doctors and staff milled by. He knew the wait would be short, but if anything, that only made him all the more anxious. Five minutes later, the door was opened and a doctor brought him back in, Scrivener rejoining them at the table. For a few moments, there was silence as he shifted back and forth uncomfortably... and then one of the psychologists leaned forwards, saying quietly: "Scrivener Blooms. We have causes for concern with your case: you have a violent neurosis and borderline psychosis, you prefer fantasy over reality, and you refuse to follow the instructions of your doctors. We feel... uncomfortable, letting you resume life outside this mental institution. "However. You are under careful observation and guidance, and Dr. Sanus has vouched for you. We are willing to release you on the condition that you meet with Dr. Sanus once a week and take all prescribed medication, which we will be monitoring. We will also be asking Dr. Duck in Ponyville to have regular sessions with you and keep an eye on things. "Also, if in the future there is another incident like what occurred with the Changeling... you will be brought back to the Canterlot Institute for Mental Health immediately, and placed back in care here. The same goes if we receive any reports of violence against other ponies, and this includes strong verbal threats. Your deteriorated mental health is not a shield or a crutch, Scrivener Blooms. You will be held accountable for your actions, do I make myself clear?" "Crystal." Scrivener said moodily, but he felt a burst of gladness all the same, breathing a little easier now as he bowed his head and mumbled: "Thank you." The doctors only nodded, and then they all climbed to their hooves and filed out. For a few moments, Scrivener sat at the table, slumping back a bit... and then a nurse poked her head in the door and looked at him before saying awkwardly: "Excuse me, sir, we need this room..." "Sorry, the. Shrinks just up and left me. I guess saying 'goodbye' is too much of a waste of their valuable time." Scrivener muttered, standing up, and the nurse smiled, then hurriedly covered her mouth, but the charcoal stallion only laughed and shook his head as he headed to the door and out past her, trading a nod with the mare on the way out. He made his way to the front of the institute, where Twilight Sparkle had chosen to wait for him in one of the reading rooms. He entered the den-like room, seeing a few ponies sitting and reading hand-me-down books from the battered shelves, his eyes easily picking out the violet mare and smiling widely as he noticed that she was now wearing her new collar around her neck. He figured she must have picked it up while he was in session: it looked beautiful on her, the etching of the rose on the clasp perfect from what he could see. He smiled softly, then shook his head slowly before asking calmly: "You ready to go home?" Twilight glanced up with surprise, and then she smiled warmly and set the book down, nodding slowly once as Scrivener noted with surprise she had picked up an earring, too: a black, moon-shaped stud, and he softened at the sight of this before the violet mare said quietly: "Yeah, I am, Scrivy. You're getting out?" "I am." Scrivener nodded as Twilight stood up and slipped her satchel on, then she strode quickly across the room to him, and the two shared a tight hug. They parted, and Scrivener smiled at her as they both turned and fell into pace, saying softly: "You look... good." "I feel good." Twilight replied softly, shaking her head and laughing quietly as they strode slowly down the corridor, before the violet unicorn murmured quietly: "Now we can sort everything out in Ponyville, Scrivener. You'll see, everypony will come around." "Yeah." Scrivener said softly, and he smiled a bit at Twilight even as he felt a strange chill run down his spine, studying the mare for a moments as her eyes remained distant and a strange, small smile played over her face. Top ↑ Category:Transcript Category:Story